Borckman

Rowelled by the squeaky music to recollection of old-world ports and places, Borckman lay on his face on the hot planking, beat a tattoo with his naked toes, and gutturally muttered an unending monologue of curses.

CHAPTER IX 2010

Horn went below into the tiny stateroom and took a long drink from the very bottle from which Borckman was stealing.

CHAPTER IV 2010

Borckman drunkenly recognized the cheating without crediting the heart of good behind it.

CHAPTER VIII 2010

Borckman remembered his first idea and continued to the bottle, which he generously inverted skyward.

CHAPTER VIII 2010

He had leaped back into the dark stark rawness of the early world almost as swiftly as had Borckman.

CHAPTER VIII 2010

Borckman immediately and insanely went back across the million years.

CHAPTER VIII 2010

To Jerry, Borckman was now no more a god than was he himself a mere, smooth-coated Irish terrier.

CHAPTER VIII 2010

And not only did Borckman sense it, but it served as a spur to drive him back into primitive beastliness, and to fight to master this puppy as a primitive man, under dissimilar provocation, might have fought with the members of the first litter stolen from a wolf-den among the rocks.

CHAPTER VIII 2010

Borckman felt the abysmal urgings of the beast, as a beast, to prove himself master of this four-legged beast.

CHAPTER VIII 2010

But Borckman, whose brain was well a-crawl by virtue of the many nips, clung to a petty idea after the fashion of drunken men.

CHAPTER VIII 2010